


Obviously

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: That Guy with the Glasses/Channel Awesome
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something weird about that statue. Obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obviously

On occasion, Oancitizen grew tired of the vast, rambling building that was TGWTG headquarters. It was hard to do, admittedly - after all, between the neverending coitus going on around the place, the weird science experiments that liked to crawl into the nearest lap for “cuddles” (although how seaweed could cuddle was truly a mystery), and the general loud noisiness of the place….

Somehow, though, Oan was able to leave - nay, to _drag_ himself away from - the noise, the sex, the weird seaweed monsters, and enjoy a brisk constitutional around the block. On one particular day, he was feeling especially adventurous, and decided to go wander around in the park.

It was quite a nice park, really. Big shady trees (well, when it wasn’t winter), benches and statues scattered around the place, not much trash. Neglected just enough to give it character, or rather, Character. If it was a movie, it would be about a pregnant teenager or a couple having lots and lots of sex, and it would have a soundtrack by a bunch of bands obscure enough to be indie without being so obscure as to be weird.

Today, being not too cold and somewhat bright, was a day that called for a nice bench for some contemplation on the nature of the universe, people, and whatever new movie he was going to review that would probably leave him walking around in a traumatized daze for three days. To say nothing of the seaweed monster. He found a very nice place for his contemplation - a bench in a little secluded clearing, facing an old metal statue.

It was a bit of an odd statue, although Oan didn’t really notice the oddness until he’d been sitting for a few minutes. Even when he was staring straight at it, he couldn’t actually put his finger on what it looked like, apart from the fact that it was a young-ish person of indeterminate gender. And that was it. Even staring straight at it, he wasn’t registering what its clothing looked like, what it’s face looked like, whether it was holding anything, even what position it was standing in. He was still trying to pin what was feeling so off about everything when the statue moved.

“You’re good.” The statue turned its head and stretched, and Oan nearly had a heart attack.

Of course. He (she? Zie? They?) was a street performer. A good one too. “Thank you?”

“Most people don’t really notice the not-notice thing.” The statue person jumped down from the plinth, and there was an odd rattling, clanking noise. It couldn’t be an actual statue - actual statues don’t _move_ , for one, and even if they did, they wouldn’t move so fluidly. They sat next to Oan on the bench, and it was the strangest thing - close proximity didn’t make it any easier for the eye to focus. Even a few inches away, Oan wouldn’t have been able to tell you what color the person’s eyes were, or what they were wearing. There was an odd smell to them, though. A hot, metallic smell.

“The… not-notice thing?” Why was Oan sitting here talking to a street performer. Boredom? Well, he could find plenty of things to alleviate his boredom back at headquarters. Less likely to freeze his ears off or get robbed by a random street performer. But his eyes weren’t focusing on the strange person next to him, and it was bugging him. No, not his eyes. It was more like his _brain_ wouldn’t focus, and it was an unsettling feel, to say the least.

“Yeah. It’s a trick my mother taught me.” The person beside him stretched, and their spine seemed to have more bend to it than was entirely natural, but, well, there are plenty of flexible people in the world, so Oan wouldn’t think too much into it. “I mean, before I had to leave home.”

“Yeah?” Oan narrowed his eyes, attempting to concentrate on one thing. The person’s leg. It was a silvery, greenish, blueish color, and it reflected the light like real metal. A very good paint - he was halfway curious about what kind of paint it was, before the thought left his mind, leaving only a hole in the shape of the thought, which was _really_ frustrating.

“All dragons learn it,” the person said, and he sounded a touch offended, using a “don’t you know _anything_?” kind of voice. “Right before they’re kicked out of their nest.

“… right. So how did you get a dragon to teach you this trick?” The conversation had gone from somewhat odd to downright weird, and numerous alarm bells were sounding in Oan’s head. Actually, come to think of it, they had been sounding for a while, but he had been too absorbed in getting to the bottom of the confusion that he had ignored them. He was sitting on a park bench with a child that his brain was insisting only barely existed, and the child thought that they knew dragons.

“I _am_ a dragon. Obviously.” The person’s tone sounded exasperated, and Oan could almost hear the eye rolling.

“Obviously,” Oan agreed, and he looked up into the person’s face, determined to press it into memory. Then the person smiled, and even if Oan couldn’t catch a hold on the face, he remembered the teeth. Oh, but did he remember the teeth. They were sharp and the color of old iron. _That_ was dedication to realistic passing as a statue. Or just a mental illness and bad dental hygiene.

“I thought you were different,” the person said, and they sounded somewhere between annoyed and depressed. “You’re still a short sighted human, even if you do notice more than most people.” The person stood up, and they seemed to have entirely too many bones that clicked and crackled for someone that size, although Oan couldn’t exactly tell what size that was, from one moment to the next. “Go home, human.”

Oan was walking down the path before he noticed that he was moving, and there was a complicated moment where his feet fought with the rest of him to keep going, but he eventually mastered them, and almost ran back to the little clearing, with the empty plinth. There was nobody there, but just out of sight, in the trees, there was a… noise. It was a very hard to describe noise - kind of like metal screaming, a bit like a bellows wheezing, or a match being struck. Altogether, it was a very _full_ sound, and it sent a message to Oan’s hindbrain; run. Right before he started galloping back to the bright noisiness of TGWTG headquarters, though, he caught sight of something strange. A long, serpentine, silvery bluish greenish thing, rather like… rather like a tail.


End file.
